Married, Single, Other

This week I watched ITV’s new thirty-something drama Married, Single, Other. The script, Peter Souter’s debut, is cute, funny and quirky – sometimes a bit too much of all three at once. The writer is guilty of overkill, and the witty lines can come at the expense of real emotion. The one-liners (“All you need is a model girlfriend and you win a set of steak knives from Cliches R Us” quips Abbey to cheesy womaniser Clint) are too dense and leave little space in between for the realistic dialogue and developing relationships. One particular scene that could have benefited from a strong editor’s hand was an elderly lady dying while being treated by Eddie, an ambulance driver. There is a short debate about trying to resuscitate the patient at which point Eddie’s colleague Flo says “we have to try” and Eddie’s response “No. No we don’t” could have closed the scene beautifully. He then added more explanation about covering her chest with bruises and “bringing her back to some kind of half life” which wasn’t necessary and spoiled the poignancy of the woman’s death. Sometimes it’s what the characters don’t say that means more.

Part-timer

I have made a big decision: from 1st March I am officially a part-timer. Things at work were getting a little ridiculous – after a minimum of a 55 hour week there’s no way I’m capable of putting pen to paper (or finger to keyboard. Hello, 21st Century). And not only were no words getting written but I was brutally, desperately miserable. The kind of miserable where you can’t function, and staring into space blankly for half an hour seems like time well spent. So I have handed my notice in and going back to an advertising company I previously worked at for 4 days a week.

This was all spurred on by a job interview I had with Carnival Films for a runner’s job. I interviewed at Carnival just after leaving university for a post-production assistant role (pipped at the post by someone with two years experience, apparently) and contacted them again more recently looking for some script reading, so they called me in for the interview. Part way through Nicki Gunning (the production executive) mentioned it would be a massive pay cut from my current role. “Not a problem” I assured them “it’s only to be expected for this sort of role” and I had agreed with myself I would take a cut down to £18k. When they announced they were offering a salary of £15,000 pa for the job I hope I hid my surprise. The sums told me that once I’d paid my London rent and bought a monthly travel card I would have £36 per week left for gas, electricity, water, council tax, food and clothing. Not even tightening my belt would help – I’d have to sell the bloody thing. Or eat it. I was even more surprised later in the day when I received an email saying unfortunately I had lost out by a whisker yet again.

So, to summarise: an English degree from Oxford, 3 years advertising experience, a work placement at the BBC and I can’t even get a job earning a living wage in anything even related to television. This was low. I rang Nicki, apologetic for inconveniencing her but desperate to know what it is that I was missing – do I have body odour or an odd tic that my nearest and dearest have neglected to mention for 26 years? Do all the other applicants have doctorates in creative writing and an extensive list of fringe theatre credits to their names? Or maybe the casting couch is still in existence and when people say “come in and take a seat” they actually mean “come in, take your clothes off and orally pleasure me until I offer you the job”?? I had to know, and actually she was lovely about the whole thing. She explained all their applicants were strong, but most were younger and not experienced in the workplace. It seems that what people learn as a runner I will already have experienced: I know how to work, how to communicate in difficult situations, to sell ideas to clients or production executives, to solve problems and to work in a support role for a team. She suggested I get some more script experience and I think could serve as a useful contact in the future. But that all made me think – if an entry level job offers a salary of £15k, but most companies can’t even afford to offer me that right now, then I could earn more by working 4 days a week and offering myself up for free on the fifth.